My Carter
by Gen Varel
Summary: As requested, here is Jack's point of view as he muses on what Sam means to him.


**STARGATE SG-1**

_**My Carter**_

Category: Romantic Drabble

Spoilers: None

Season: After Eight

Pairings: Sam and Jack

Rating: T

Warnings: Sappiness, Adult subject matter

Summary: Jack muses about what Sam means to him.

Author's Note: This is not betaed so all mistakes are mine.

Disclaimer: Stargate SG-1 and its characters are not my property. I have written this story for the enjoyment of Stargate SG-1 fans all over the world. No copyright infringement is intended and no monetary gain is expected.

I watch her sleep, one of my very favorite pastimes. After the usual mind-blowing encounter that follows weeks of cruel separation and longing that borders on physical pain, I lay next to her gorgeous, sated body and I watch her slumber, forcing myself not to touch her so that I don't disturb her much needed rest.

My fingers itch with the urge to trace her beautiful features, so peaceful and innocent in sleep, but I exert self-control and let my eyes do the touching. I can't quite help myself as I lift the covers blocking the incredible sight of her seductive curves, indulging in the secret bliss that is to know that this amazing woman is mine, and only mine, to love and enjoy.

I look at her and I wonder in bafflement why she loves me; why, given her many alternatives, she chose me. Why did she settle for a worn out, flawed man like myself? But I don't dare to voice my questions because I don't want her to change her mind. I just keep my silence and I constantly remind myself what I lucky bastard I am.

After so much loss, such painful craving and so many bitter disappointments, I have been rewarded with the greatest prize of all, my wife's unconditional love and absolute commitment. The impossible came true, and the years of struggle and bitterness are now just dim memories not worth rehashing.

What really matters to me in the whole world is presently laying before me now, sprawled on my bed and mine to claim with as little as a soft caress or a single word, which always manages to bare my soul and betray my complete adoration. It is that simple, because she is fully aware of how tightly I am wrapped around her little and very fair finger, and she never fails to reward me with what I treasure the most.

It's almost comical how easily I give in to her softly expressed demands, how completely I cave despite my staunchest determination not to, and how little I care that I am so easily manipulated. As long as she's the one doing the manipulating, I will die a happy man. I gladly surrender to the fact that I'm no longer the one in command. My former second is thoroughly and completely in control, and I wouldn't have it any other way.

She turns over and moans in her sleep, eliciting a stirring shiver of both tenderness and desire, and my hand automatically reaches for her now long, blond locks. My fingers softly dig in, careful not to wake her, and I marvel again at the softness of her hair and at the rousing Carter fragrance caressing my nostrils, the same fragrance that keeps me awake some nights as I press her pillow to my face and miss her with all my heart and soul.

She unconsciously snuggles up closer, her face seeking my touch as she mumbles incoherent words, and my hand leaves her hair and trails down to cup a warm, soft cheek. She smiles in her sleep and her body presses even closer to mine, tempting and alluring, but I still resist the impulse to take her into my arms and make love to her yet again.

Instead, I look back and remember how bleak, bitter and pointless my life used to be until she came into it so many years ago. Sam Carter burst into my dark existence like a blinding ray of sunshine, warm and beautiful, as well as rather annoying. My muddled brain struggled to cope with the dormant feelings she stirred up all of a sudden, stripping me of control and threatening my well-entrenched dreary but reliable reality.

I remember how I used to snap at her in irritation, intentionally trying to curb her childlike enthusiasm and blindly trying to deny how enthralling and thoroughly captivating she was. I remember how easily I knew I could succumb to the slightest hint of invitation despite my staunch determination not to break the rules, and how that thought used to scare me, because I would have rather died than hurt her in any way.

The feelings my second-in-command elicited were forbidden, but they were also relentless and, at the end, undeniable. No matter how resolutely I fought against them, they eventually brought me to my knees.

Now, as she blinks those breathtaking blues awake and looks up at me with downright adoration, I humbly acknowledge that I should give fervent thanks for her presence in my life, for her complete devotion, and for the extraordinary gift that has been granted to me. This magnificent human being purring under my hand truly and absolutely loves me.

I also gladly remember the meaning of that intimate smile, the one she greets my appreciative gaze with, and I finally let my hand wander as my lips lower to hers, sincerely hoping that she fully understands just how much she means to me… and how utterly lonely and miserable my poor old soul would be without her, how completely devastated I would be if I ever lost my Carter.

Then End


End file.
